Breathe In, Breathe Out
by april elaine
Summary: A Quinn-centric season 3 redo. She doesn't want to get Beth back. She doesn't even want to see Beth. She just wants to forget and to self destruct in peace. Quinn/Santana/Artie friendship and eventual Fabrevans romance.
1. Chapter 1

"Q, you feeling okay?"

Quinn wants to roll her eyes, because it reminds her of when Sue asked her the same question almost two years ago, when she quivered on top of the pyramid because she was pregnant with Beth. _Everything_ always comes back to Beth.

The thing is, she hates that. That _everything_ in the last two years finds a way to come back to Beth. And she resents that Shelby has come back to town, wanting her to get to know the baby she gave up for adoption a year and a half ago.

Because really, all Quinn wants to do is to forget. She cleaned her act up when Shelby kept hounding her about it. She quit the Skanks, dyed her hair back to blonde, took out her nose ring, and rejoined the cheerios AND glee club. She didn't need Puck and Shelby breathing down her neck about saving her tortured soul. She's fine.

She isn't. Hasn't been since that night in her bed with Puck and those damn wine coolers.

But she will be.

She'll be fine when she forgets.

So, no, she has no intention of seeing Beth. And putting the tight, short cheerios uniform back on her forever baby-changed body helps call off Puck and Shelby a little bit. But Sue still seems worried about her, if she's even capable of genuine concern for another human being. She's probably just worried about winning nationals.

"Quinn?"

"Oh, sorry. Yeah, I'm fine, coach."

Sue stares at her for a moment, tilting her head to the side in scrutiny before asking her if she's managed to fall pregnant again.

Because everything comes back to Beth.

"No," she says tightly, "I'll see you tomorrow, Coach Sylvester. I'm fine."

She doesn't want to go to glee club. Really, it's the last thing in the world that she wants to do. She doesn't want to talk about it. Genuinely, she doesn't. But it's depressing how no one sees through her façade, or at least no one cares enough to act on it if they do.

Just because she doesn't want to talk about it doesn't mean that she doesn't want anyone to ask.

But the sad, ironic truth is that even though glee club is supposed to be about appreciating each other's differences and accepting each other as complex, multi-faceted human beings, everyone in that room sees her through a one-dimensional lens. To them, she's just a bitch.

Some of them were worried when she was skanking it up, but now that the fucking cheerleading uniform is back on, everything is fine. Because she's a bitch. And if she's backing to being head bitch in charge on the cheerios, well then, all is well.

(Well, second head bitch in charge. She's not going to put in the effort to try to usurp Santana's captainship this time. Even though she's clearly the superior cheerleader. She just doesn't really care anymore.)

Never mind the fact that she dropped off the face of the planet and spent most of the summer having drunken sex with a fifty-year-old, or the fact that the baby she gave up for adoption is back in town. She's back to playing directly into their expectations of her. So no need to worry.

Mr. Schuester is droning on about finding new members since Sam left, and good god, how do they always find themselves shortchanged on members? Well, it _is_ glee club, but they've been at this for two years now. You'd think they'd at least have a steady membership.

For a moment, Quinn wonders if Sam being there would change anything. If he would at least try to reach out to her. Probably, she thinks, because for better or for worse, he's always given a shit about her. Even after she cheated on him, he still considered her a friend. Hell, there were other girls at their church who knew about his family losing their house that he could have let help with his siblings.

But Sam's not there, and he's not really her friend anymore, anyway. There was no bitter falling out. He just was busy with Mercedes that summer and then all of the sudden he moved away.

It sucks, because he was maybe the only true, genuine friend that she had. Though, for whatever reason, Santana had been really trying to connect with her as of late. It's weird, because they've mostly ever gone at each other's throats, but maybe that's the point. Maybe now that Santana's head cheerleader and Quinn isn't trying to take her down, Santana wants to keep it that way.

"Quinn," a familiar voice calls after her as she leaves the choir room after the merciful ending of yet another Finn and Rachel duet.

Speak of the devil.

"What do you want, Santana?"

"Lose the tone, Fabray. Listen, you heard what Mr. Schuester said about recruiting new members, right? Well, I was thinking Sadie, that new cheerio, the one with the red hair and the ambiguous sexual orientation. What do you think?"

"You should talk to her. Or make out with her. I'm not really sure what you're getting at here."

"I was thinking," Santana says firmly, grabbing Quinn's wrist to stop her from walking away, "that you and I could talk to her about joining glee club together."

"And why do you need me for that?"

"Okay, what the fuck is going on with you, Fabray?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're not trying to take my spot as cheerleading captain and you always seem kind of blank faced and checked out. Like you're not actually here. What's going on? Is it that Shelby bitch? Because I could totally kick her ass."

"Look, if you're just trying to be buddy-buddy with me so that I won't try and take your spot, you can spare yourself the effort. I don't want to be head cheerleader."

"Well, why not?"

"I just don't."

"I'm worried about you," she says quickly, looking at the ground as if she's ashamed to have admitted it out loud.

"That's cute."

"Look, Quinn, if something's wrong, you can tell me, okay? I know we used to go after each all of the time, but I'm kind of over that. I mean, if you change your mind and try to become captain of the cheerios again, I'll cut you, but other than that I don't want to fight anymore. It's our senior year. I just want to be friends."

"That's touching and all, but I'm fine."

"No you're not. I heard you the other day in the locker room after practice."

Oh fuck.

"What are you talking about," Quinn asks, even though she knows exactly what Santana is talking about.

"You thought everyone was already gone, but I came back because I forgot my phone. And I heard you throwing up. Look, Q, I know we all tried that a couple of times when we first joined the squad our freshman year because of Coach Sylvester and her crazy dieting advice, but then we all dropped it because it's insane and unhealthy. You're naturally skinny and since you're not even trying to become head cheerleader again, why are you trying to lose weight?"

"I wasn't throwing up."

"Quinn, I know what I heard."

"And I've known what I've heard every time you, me, and Brittany have shared a room at cheerleading competitions, and I just do the polite thing and pretend I don't hear anything."

It's a low blow and she knows it. She knows that Santana and Brittany have been trying to figure out what exactly it is between them since Brittany and Artie broke up, but that Santana's nowhere near ready to come out of the closet. But really, she just wants Santana to leave her alone, so she can take the guilt of hurting her feelings.

" _Experimenting_ with Brittany isn't the same thing as making yourself throw up."

She supposes that she should lie and tell Santana that it wasn't on purpose, but she knows that Santana is too smart for that and beyond that, Quinn just doesn't really care. She doesn't care about much of anything anymore.

Except trying to forget.

So she braces herself, puts on her best bitch face and says, "Santana, you're gay," and walks away before she can see the other girl's face twist with shock and hurt.

Santana doesn't follow her.

And now she's really all alone.


	2. Chapter 2

It's all Santana can do to keep from rolling her eyes when Artie Abrams rolls toward her. She thinks about just speed walking in the opposite direction, because the hallway is crowded enough that he would have a hard time navigating it, allowing her to get away from him easily. But she's in a pretty good mood considering she just had a quickie in the locker room with the girl that she stole away from him, so she figures that giving him the light of a day for a moment or two couldn't hurt.

"Can we talk, like, in private?"'

"Why? Are you going to finally tell me off for stealing your girlfriend last year?"

"No, I don't want to talk about Brittany."

"Then what do you want to talk about that's so private that you can't just say it out here in the hallway?"

"I want to talk to you about Quinn."

"Look, just because one of us had a lapse of judgement and decided to date you doesn't mean that you're going to score with the rest of the unholy trinity."

"Santana," he says quietly, "I'm worried about her."

Well, Santana is worried about her, too. But there's a big part of her that wants to tell Artie to fuck off because yeah, she tried reaching out to Quinn and the bitch ended up going for her Achilles heel. She opens her mouth to tell Artie that he can worry about Quinn on his own, but then stops herself.

Because her and Quinn are a lot alike. They don't like talking about their feelings, and they don't do vulnerability. And they tend to lash out and say whatever hurtful thing they can think of to try and get the other person to leave them alone when they're close to seeing any sort of genuine display of emotion from them.

Or at least, that's what Santana has learned about herself since she started therapy, but that's another story.

She thinks back to when they got into that horrible fight when Quinn snitched about her boob job to Coach Sylvester. When instead of saying "I supported you throughout your pregnancy and I thought you were my only real friend that I'm not only sleeping with, and I trusted you not to tell anyone," she went straight for Quinn's Achilles heel.

" _Oh, she has a family. She's a mother!"_

Maybe she owes it to her (maybe) friend to give her another chance. If only because she can understand being a colossal bitch to try and hide away pain or repressed lesbianism.

Sighing, Santana gets behind Artie and pushes his wheelchair into the nearest empty classroom.

"I'm listening," she says, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible.

"Look, I know you don't like me. You kind of hate me because of what went down with me and Brittany, and I wouldn't be coming to you if I didn't feel like I had no other choice. I've noticed that Quinn's been acting kind of weird lately, and I've tried bringing up to her other friends, like Mercedes and Kurt and Finn, but they all think I'm overreacting and that she's fine. And I know I don't know her very well, but I just have the feeling that something's not right there."

"What have you noticed?" Santana asked, ignoring the first part of what he said, because no, she doesn't hate him. And if anything, she owes him an apology. It's whatever, though, because being willing to forgive another glee club member for fooling around with your boyfriend or girlfriend seems to be a prerequisite for joining the club.

"She doesn't sit with us at lunch anymore. And Finn thinks that's because she's a cheerio again and doesn't want to be seen with us, but she's not sitting with the cheerios, either. I kinda… followed her the other day to see where she goes off to, and she's just been sitting alone in the library."

 _There's no food allowed in the library_ , Santana thinks to herself, but she doesn't say it out loud, because maybe Quinn was just sitting in the library for that one day. And she's not going to out Quinn's theoretical eating disorder to Artie Abrams, who's not really even Quinn's friend, not when she's not fully sure that's what's going on.

"Okay, well maybe she just had a test the next period that day."

"Fair point, but even if that's true, it's still weird that she's never in the cafeteria anymore. And it's not just that. She always seems vacant, like sort of checked out. I don't know how to articulate it, but-

"It's like she's physically there but mentally somewhere else, right?"

"Yeah! You've noticed it, too?"

"Yes," Santana says emphatically, "Coach Sue keeps getting frustrated with her at cheerios practice because she's been having a hard time paying attention."

"And the last thing I've noticed is that she just seems so unhappy. I know she used to be a little self-conscious about being in glee, but she's always enjoyed it. She loves to sing and dance, but lately she just seems like she doesn't want to be there. And she never smiles anymore, which sucks because she has a really beautiful smile."

"You trying to get in her pants, Abrams?"

"No. No, Santana, I promise that I have no ulterior motives here," he says sincerely, "Quinn's obviously a very beautiful girl but I'm not trying to go there. I'm worried about her. Her and I have never really been close, but she's always been nice to me and I'm just trying to look out for her. Don't you think it was a pretty quick turn around from her being in the skanks to being back on the cheerios and in glee? I'm delighted that she's back, but everyone else seems to think that she's magically all better and it just doesn't seem believable to me. Something had to be really bothering her for her to stop talking to all of us and join the skanks, and I think we're doing her a disservice if we all act like she was just going through a phase or something."

"You know Abrams," Santana says slowly, "you're really not so bad."

"Thank you?"

"I've been worried about her, too. And it frustrates me that no one else seems to see it. Listen, if I tell you something, can you promise not to tell anyone, or at least not yet? I'm not really sure… how much of a thing it is, and I wasn't going to tell you, but you seem like your intentions are pure and I feel like I might go crazy if I keep it to myself."

"I won't tell. You have my word."

"I caught her throwing up the other day, like on purpose. And I know it was on purpose because I confronted her about it and she didn't even deny it. Then she uh, sort of said some hurtful things so that I would leave her alone, but she didn't deny it."

"She hasn't been eating lunch," Artie says, putting the same puzzle pieces together that Santana had.

"We don't know that. We just know that she didn't eat lunch that one day that you followed her. And maybe she was only making herself throw up that one time. Pretty much everyone on the cheerios has experimented with self-induced vomiting a couple of times when they first joined the team because Coach Sylvester gives us surprise weigh ins. But Q, Britt, and I are all past that. Or at least, we all were. So I don't know. I don't know if she has an eating disorder or if this is a serious thing or what."

"So, what do we do?"

"We go snooping. We try and figure out if that's what's going on with her. And we don't tell Mr. Schue or Ms. Pillsbury or anyone else until we're sure, because when I brought it up to her she tried to verbally tear me to shreds. Can you imagine how poorly it would go if our perm headed leader and the nervous ginger tried to intervention her? We at least have to make sure that she even _needs_ an intervention before we put them through that disaster."

"What about her mother? What if we don't tell her about the throwing up and just say that we're not sure if Quinn's eating lunch and ask her if she's eating at home?"

"Okay, this is another thing that you can't tell anybody about, but Judy Fabray probably has no idea whether her daughter is eating or not. She means well, but she hasn't exactly been able to put down the bottle since she discovered her now ex-husband was cheating on her. Quinn is pretty much on her own at home."

"No one's looking after her?"

"No one except herself."

"Are you sure we shouldn't tell Mr. Schue? We don't have to tell him what we think might be wrong, but just that we've noticed that is something is wrong."

"No, Artie, look, I see where you're coming from. But I don't think we should get him involved yet. Besides, if he wanted to be involved right now, he would be."

"What do you mean?"

"He's her teacher," she says flatly, "and he's her coach. He's supposed to be somewhat responsible for her. He should have been the first one to try and reach out to her when she joined the skanks and didn't come back for glee. He should at least be trying to talk to her now since it's obvious she's not happy being in rehearsals anymore. If Berry had pulled the shit that Fabray has been up to, Mr. Schue would have made us have two benefit concerts in her honor and have performed six singing telegrams for her."

"You… have a point there."

"I'm not saying that Mr. Schue doesn't care about her, or that the rest of the club doesn't, either. But everyone has a blind spot for her. Well, everyone except for us, apparently. Everyone kind of sees her as a heartless bitch who just wants to be prom queen, and sure, there's a good chunk of that inside her, but she's a real person with feelings, too. But as long as she makes a snide comment about Rachel every now and then, they all assume that she's fine. They love her, but they don't really understand her."

"And you do?" Artie asks knowingly.

"I know what it's like to just be seen as a bitch," Santana says carefully.

"Okay, so what do we now?"

"We keep an eye on her. I watch her like a hawk at cheerios practice and try to catch her making herself puke again. And you have Spanish with her right before lunch, right?"

"Right."

"So you keep discreetly following her to see where she goes during lunch."

"And what if this leads us nowhere?"

"Then I'll try talking to her again. She's probably going to bitch me out either way, but it'll help if we have proof."

"What if she does have an eating disorder but doesn't want to listen to us?"

"Then we get McKinley's favorite faculty power couple involved. Quinn's under eighteen and will be until March, and that gives them some power. It also gives her mother power, too. Judy may be a drunk, but if she gets a call from Emma Pillsbury maybe she'll be inclined to force her daughter to get help."

"I'm just worried. I don't want anything to happen to Quinn."

"Quinn danced to a Journey medley right before her water broke. The girl's a fucking tank."

"Santana."

"I know. I'm worried about her, too. But we're not going to let anything happen to her, okay? And we're not going to keep this a secret forever. We'll go to Ms. Pillsbury in three weeks even if we don't figure out what's going on, alright? I just think it's only fair to Quinn to give her a chance to go about reaching out about whatever the hell is going on with her on her own accord first."

"Alright. Three weeks. But then I'm letting Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury intervention her even if you change your mind."

"You got yourself a deal, Abrams. Now I gotta go to cheerios practice so I can spy on Q. I'll see you in glee later, but you can't just start acting like we're magically friends now. Everyone will get suspicious if we suddenly don't hate each other."

"For the record, I don't hate you, Santana."

"If you tell anyone this I will fix your spine just to fuck it up once more, but I don't hate you, either."

"That's… endearing."

"Auntie Snix out."

And just like that, she turned on her heel and left Artie in that empty history classroom. As she walked to practice, she shook her head. Was she really teaming with Artie Abrams to essentially stalk Quinn Fabray? It's certainly not the strangest thing that's ever happened among glee club members, but it's definitely still weird.

She loves glee club, truthfully she does, but her life would certainly be much simpler if William Schuester hadn't decided to relive his high school glory days by reviving McKinley's show choir.


	3. Chapter 3

Santana can't help but feel like a bit of creep in her quest to covertly stalk Quinn Fabray. Sure, it's arguably for the greater good, but it doesn't stop it from feeling weird. Another thing which feels weird to her is that she keeps mentally referring to Quinn as a _friend_.

Don't get her wrong, she wants to be Quinn's friend. And technically, they have been friends since cheerleading camp the summer their freshman year. But it's rarely felt like they were actual friends.

Santana supposes the reason for that is half their joint conquest to be captain of the cheerios and half competition over boys, be it Puckerman or Sam. But Santana's a lesbian now, or really, she always has been, but now she's realized it and is done fooling around with boys. And since she's fairly confident that Quinn isn't going to make a play to be head cheerleader, there's really nothing standing in the way of them being friends _all_ the time, and not just when one of them is really in need.

So, she tells herself, it's okay that she's stalking Quinn because she's stalking her out of love.

Her phone beeps, and she chuckles to herself, because Artie just sent her _this is really fucking weird_ and she doesn't know what else to say but _hell yeah it is_.

They've been on their espionage mission for about a week now, and they've got nothing to show for it except for the knowledge that Quinn's been spending every lunch period in the library, which is strange but fails to prove anything.

She tries to casually talk to Quinn a couple of times, but the other girl never really seems to be in the mood for conversation. She just seems irritated and bitchy, more so than she's traditionally been, and it concerns her, but she's afraid to push her for fear of what might come out of her mouth. She doesn't _think_ Quinn would say "you're gay, Santana" in a crowded hallway or in cheerios practice, effectively outing her, but then again, she didn't expect Quinn to say it in private, either.

..

Quinn knows that she's playing a dangerous game.

Eventually, she'll realize that at the time, she didn't have a grasp on just _how_ dangerous of a game it is, but she knows that she's more or less playing with fire.

Their freshman year, the unholy trinity wasn't a trinity. There was a fourth girl who hung out with them, which made things considerably less awkward for Quinn, considering that there was someone else to talk to whenever Brittany and Santana snuck off "to talk."

Her name was Lilly.

Lilly was a talented cheerleader, and probably could have ended up giving Quinn and then later Santana a run for their money in tryouts to be captain of the cheerios, that is, if she had been able to eat enough and had also been able to stop making herself throw up.

It had started slowly. No one really noticed at first. _Everyone_ on the cheerios watches what they eat and is a little body conscious; it's the nature of the game. Quinn honestly doesn't know if there's a single girl on the cheerios who could proudly say that they loved their physical appearance and are confident in their own skin.

But it was different for Lilly.

Or at least that's what Ms. Pillsbury had told the rest of the squad the day after Lilly collapsed at cheerios practice, her heart giving out, apparently the result of a severe electrolyte misbalance.

" _I know you girls worry about your appearance and how your body looks. I know that many of you are very insecure, but with Lilly, it went beyond that. There's always something deeper than body image when it comes to eating disorders._ "

At the time, Quinn couldn't comprehend it. What could drive someone to torture their own body to the point of cardiac arrest? And what did Ms. Pillsbury mean by there being something deeper than body image? Lilly was _obsessed_ with how she looked. That was the thing, that's what drove her to death, right?

Now, Quinn understands, in the worst way possible.

In retrospect, she's probably had an unhealthy relationship with food since when she went by Lucy and went on that crazy diet to lose all the weight. She's been stringent in what does and doesn't go in her mouth for years- to the point that other people notice, but most don't get concerned, they just act almost impressed at her "self-control."

But it starts to get completely out of hand over the summer, when she's hell bent on getting Beth out of the forefront mind, and it really starts to sink in that her body is going to be different _forever_. Her hips are always going to be a little wider, and her abs are never going to come back.

And she thinks, maybe if she could just lose a _little_ bit of weight, her body would look more like it how did before Beth, even if it's never going to be exactly the same. And maybe then, if her own physical being isn't such a harsh reminder of all that she's lost, it'll be easier for her mind to stop torturing her 24/7.

The things is, Quinn isn't a person who is easily satisfied, especially when it comes to herself. So when losing five pounds doesn't make her feel any better, she sets her sights on ten. And when ten doesn't make her feel any better, she sets her sights on fifteen.

That's how the cycle starts, and honestly, at first it's not even that miserable. Sure, she's hungry, but seeing the number go down feels like she's finally in control of something, and it's almost euphoric.

But Quinn is someone who a firm grasp on the concept that _nothing_ lasts forever, so it doesn't surprise her when the euphoria fades, and the feeling of faux control fades into helplessness, as her mind sets more and more rules for what she can and cannot eat, when she can and cannot eat, and the self-induced vomiting begins to rule her life.

She supposes that she should of told someone when she started to get in deep, but she doesn't even know who she could of told. Santana and Brittany were spending all their free time together, the skanks didn't give an actual fuck about her, no one from Glee had tried to contact her since school let out, Sam had moved away, and there were no responsible, mentally adults in her life that she felt she could turn to. Sure, Mr. Schue cared about her, but he was completely focused on the glee club, and since she had quit glee, she wasn't of his focus anymore.

She just actively tries to ignore the fact that she had a friend who died of an eating disorder. Besides, it's not like she has an eating disorder anyway. She could stop if she really needed to. (Or at least, that's what she tells herself.)

She gets a little lightheaded walking the hallways sometimes, and usually after cheerios practice she has to sit in her car for a few minutes before she feels okay to drive, but she can handle it. She's fine.

And maybe Santana's on to her, but she can handle that, too.

But then she hears something.

A voice in the hallway.

"Did you hear that Finn and Rachel are going to Kentucky to try and get Sam to come back to Lima?"

It can't work.

It won't work.

Sam's not just going to come back… right?

 _Author's note: SO I know I'm bringing Sam back earlier than he does in the ~actual~ season 3 but he's my favorite character and I would miss him too much in this story if he didn't come back much sooner. Also, I promise I'm not going to go the "boy magically solves all the troubled girl's problems" route, because that's not how things work in real life. There's much more angst coming your way._


	4. Chapter 4

Quinn knows a bad idea when she sees on, or in this particular instance, hears one.

Her problem with bad decision making isn't that she can't identify a bad choice, it's that she realizes something is a bad idea and ends up acting on it anyway. And it's not even that she doesn't _care_ that it's a bad idea, the perfectionist in her wouldn't just allow her to run off and make stupid decisions without transforming her chest into a whirlpool of screaming anxiety.

For instance, when she was cheating on Finn with Puck, she could hardly relax enough to be able to physically have sex. Not even the alcohol in her system could calm the logical side of her brain from screaming _no no NO, no Quinn, don't you fucking dare._

But she did it anyway, for reasons she can't fully articulate.

It was the same scenario when she was fooling around with Finn behind Sam's back. She had her reasons that time around, but she doesn't understand why she didn't run from the auditorium when everything in her was screaming at her, too.

It was the same way when she lied to Finn about the father of her child.

And it was the same way when she made the damn "Glist."

The point being, she knows that going to Sam's welcome-back-here's-some-pizza-and-booze party is a bad idea, and yet she finds herself at Finn and Kurt's doorstep anyway.

Neither Burt or Carole make bank, so she has no idea how they can afford to feed and house a third teenage boy, or even why they would want to even if they were loaded, but it's not like that's something she can just ask her ex-boyfriend's mom and step-father. Maybe they're like her. They know something's a bad idea and just can't resist.

Regardless of how or why Sam is staying is there, he is, and Burt and Carole are either naive enough to leave three teenage boys alone for the weekend or are already in need of a break from dealing with having a third son, and are off skiing or something. (She doesn't really care where they are, she's just resentful that they left, enabling this stupid party that she's socially obligated to go to.)

Kurt's boyfriend opens the door, and she feels a little bad, because she legitimately doesn't know what his name is. She knows that he sings a lot in glee club and that he has great voice, so go him, because it's nice to have some variety in solo distribution after two years of Finn, Rachel, and the occasional Mercedes solo echoing throughout the choir room. She knows that he sometimes comes off as a little showoff-y, but she figures it's probably insecurity rather than assholery. She knows that he transferred schools to be with Kurt, which is admittedly pretty damn romantic.

But she doesn't know his name. Which is probably a testament to how checked out she's been in glee club this year.

She's aware that her whole "self-starvation-obsession-bad-decision-extravaganza" (she's not going to admit that she has an eating disorder) is turning her into a self-obsessed asshole, but she can't help but be caught off guard by how asshole-ish it is that she doesn't know a fellow glee club member's name, let alone Kurt's boyfriend.

But Kurt hasn't really payed her much attention since she was pregnant sophomore year, so maybe it's not the end of the world. She's certainly done worse by people than not knowing their romantic partner's name.

"Hey, Quinn! Good to see you!"

 _Have I ever conversed this human being before or is he just excited to see me because he's an enthusiastic person?_

"Good to see you, too!" she says easily, her best fake grin plastered on her face.

"Everyone else is already here, so you can just head on down to the basement. The stairs are down and to the- oh wait, you probably already know that."

"Yep, I've dated your boyfriend's step-brother twice," she says casually, hoping to make the boy squirm a little bit. He doesn't seem super judgmental, but she can't imagine that Finn and Kurt have painted a super flattering picture of her.

The boy's jaw drops a little bit, and she can tell he's fumbling for what to say next when a familiar voice comes to his rescue.

"Blaine, we need to bring more beer downstairs. Quinn? Is that you?"

 _Blaine! That's his name!_

She doesn't say anything, because she's not really sure how to approach him. Sure, they were friends before he left, but they haven't spoken in months. Maybe after having more time to think about it and move on with Mercedes, he's decided that yeah, he probably should still be pissed at her for cheating on him.

"Quinn! It is you! Good to see you, Ms. Fabray!"

She can't help but crack a half smile at "Ms. Fabray" because Sam is still the ever excitable goofus that he's always been. It's reassuring to her that her breaking his heart hasn't ruined him.

She steps forward and accepts his hug, and she's really not a person that's all that into hugs, but it's Sam and she hasn't seen him in months, so she'll allow it.

He squeezes her tightly for a moment, and that ever-present voice in her head tells her that her body's gross and she shouldn't let anyone touch it or else she'll repulse them, but Sam lets go a second later, so she doesn't have to potentially hurt his feelings by trying to wiggle out of his grasp.

"It's good to see you, too," she says with a little more sincerity than when she said it to Blaine, but to be fair, she didn't know his name until about thirty seconds ago.

"How are you? I haven't seen you in forever!"

"I'm doing alright," she lies smoothly, hoping Mercedes hasn't told him about her pink haired voyage into the skanks, "how are you?"

"I'm doing well. I'm so happy to back. Come on downstairs, what do you want to drink?"

Well, fuck. She doesn't really want anything to drink, because liquid calories are something she generally refuses to partake in these days, and because she hasn't eaten enough that day to have any semblance of an alcohol tolerance. She really doesn't want to wake up the next morning mercilessly hungover on her ex-boyfriend and his step-brother and her other ex-boyfriend's couch.

"Uh, why don't you help Blaine bring the beer down? I'll go downstairs and grab a drink, but thank you."

She gives Sam's shoulder a squeeze, before flouncing down the stairs, glad that she was able to figure out a plausible excuse.

She does know that if she isn't drinking, half the glee club will probably ask her if Puck got her pregnant again, especially if _they_ have been drinking, so she heads straight over to the makeshift bar. There's soda out for mixing, so she just pours diet coke into a solo cup and figures that anyone who sees her drink will just assume there's liquor in it.

There's a tap on her shoulder and when she turns around, she's staring into Santana's brown eyes. God, Santana is a beautiful woman. If Quinn swung that way, Brittany would have some serious competition.

"Hey Q, I like your dress," she says nicely.

Quinn smiles, because she knows Santana is lying. Santana has long since been trying for Quinn to widen her wardrobe to include tighter, more revealing clothing than just her "good girl sundresses." And what is Quinn currently wearing? A good girl sundress, and one that is two sizes up from what she should be wearing.

(Clothing that clings to her body makes her anxious, but she tries not to think about it.)

But it's not one of Santana's patented bitchy fake compliments, Quinn can tell that the other girl is just trying to make conversation. So she obliges her, if only out of curiosity.

"Thank you. Your skirt is cute."

"Thanks. You want some pizza? There's still some mushroom left, and I know that's your favorite."

"No thanks. I ate before I came."

"It's a pizza party. Why would you eat before you come?"

"Because my mom has a new boyfriend and wanted me to have dinner with them tonight," she lies, and it's a pretty good excuse, but she can tell that Santana's not sure if she believes it or not. Santana has been keeping an eye on her ever since she confronted her about making herself throw up, so she's not surprised that the other girl is questioning her.

"Oh, what's this new guy like?"

"Like all the others," Quinn laughs, not only because it's an easy answer, but she knows it's also an acceptable one. Santana knows how her mother's boyfriends all tend to be stuck up and gross.

"Shocking," Santana smiles, but Quinn can see the suspicion in her eyes.

"So where's Brittany?"

"…Do you not remember what happened at cheerios practice, like, two hours ago?"

"Oh… she sprained her ankle, right? Is she okay."

"Yeah, right. And she's fine, but her parents are making her stay home and rest."

"Well that sucks."

"Jesus, Q, how did you not remember that?"

"It just took me a minute," she says defensively, and maybe Santana's hit a nerve considering that a few minutes ago she couldn't even remember Blaine's name.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm great. It was nice talking to you, Santana, but I'm going to-

"Oh no you don't," Santana warns, grabbing her friend's wrist, "we need to talk about this."

"I just forgot, Santana," she sighs.

"Not just that. You've been out of it lately and I'm worried that maybe it has something to do with what I overheard in the girls' locker room.

"That was a one time thing."

"Then what the hell is going on with you?"

"Nothing."

"Quinn-

"I didn't come here to argue with you, Santana."

"Then don't. Just tell me the truth."

"There's no truth to tell."

"Quinn-

"Hey, hey. Kurt sent me over here to stop this potential catfight because he doesn't want it to, in his words, 'ruin his tasteful welcome back Sam Evans banger'," Puck says, putting a hand on both her and Santana's chests to push them away from each other, and also, probably for the sake of touching their boobs.

Santana growls out a "fine," gives Puck a disgusted look, and stomps away.

"What was all that about?"

"It didn't sound like nothing."

She doesn't say anything, and just glares at him, hoping he'll take the hint and leave her alone.

It's Puck, so he doesn't.

"You know what you need? Some alcohol. Here."

Puck is holding out a shot of tequila for her.

And just like the last time Puck offered her alcohol, she knows it's a terrible idea.

And just like that last time, she accepts it anyway.

 _Author's note: Thak you for your patience with how long this took. Also, no, I'm not going to have her sleep with Puck again, so you don't have to worry about that._


	5. Chapter 5

She doesn't know where she is for a moment, but then she groggily recognizes the wallpaper of the Hummel-Hudson guestroom. She had spent one night there last year when her and Finn were dating again, when it was raining hard late one night and Carole didn't feel comfortable letting her drive home. She doesn't understand how the woman could be so nice to her after she tricked her son into thinking he impregnated her when it was, in fact, his best friend who had done so, but she supposes that Carole is just one of those angels on earth type of people.

But why is she waking up in that guestroom again?

The pounding in her head clues her in to the fact that she's probably hungover and _oh_ , then she remembers that she accepted multiple shots of tequila from Puck and Mercedes last night, and everything starts to make sense.

 _Well, it's sure nice of them to let me have the bed, considering I've cheated on two out of three boys who live in this house, and probably would have cheated on the third if he wasn't gay_ , she muses, thinking that she can't be the only hungover person who ended up spending the night. She wonders who's passed out on the couch in the living room, and who's possibly asleep on the basement floor.

Her best guess is that Puck and Mike are on the basement floor, and either Tina or Santana is on the couch.

She then remembers that Blaine, whose name she refuses to forget again, had been staying sober last night in order to drive their friends home, so on second thought, maybe she's in the bed because no one else that doesn't live in the house is still there.

She figures that while she never explicitly discussed it with either of them, Finn and Sam know enough about her mother to figure that she wouldn't care if she didn't come home until the next morning, and told Blaine not to bother. Or maybe she was just too drunk to tell Blaine where she lived.

She sits up in bed, wanting to just get the embarrassment of the morning after over with, but has to catch her breath just from positioning herself half upright. She's dizzy and her head is killing her, and she hates herself for accepting tequila. Tequila has _never_ been anyone's friend.

 _And it's especially not your friend when you've already been treating your body like crap._

Her body aches, and she honestly doesn't know if she's ever been this hungover in her life. It's not surprising though, considering that for one thing, she hadn't eaten much the day before, which she knows is a cardinal sin when it comes to drinking and trying not to be half dead the next day. And there's also the fact that she rarely consumes more than two drinks in one night. Except for that one party right after Sam had broken up with her junior year, she hadn't gotten more than lightly buzzed since Beth's conception. She doesn't trust herself not to get pregnant or to cheat on anyone if there's too much alcohol involved.

But last night she apparently had just gone for it, and her body is now paying the price for it. However, no one is lying in bed next to her, so she's at least safe to assume that she's not going to have to go through another accidental pregnancy.

There's a knock on the door, and she sighs. She figures that the boys have probably sent Kurt as tribute.

"Come in," she calls, hoping he's just coming by to make sure she isn't dead and will let her run out the front door once he sees that she isn't.

She's surprised to see Artie Abrams wheel himself into the room, a glass of water in hand, and she can't decide if it's more or less humiliating than if it were Kurt being sent to check on her.

"How are you on this fine morning, Quinn?"

"Hungover," she mumbles, figuring that she probably looks like hell and there's no use in denying it.

"I thought you might say that," he laughs, handing over the glass of water and then fishing two pills out of his pocket for her.

"Artie, you are my hero."

"You're not the first person to say that to me this morning."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, I've been making the rounds. I only had like, two beers last night, so I'm fine this morning. I'm only still here because my dad has to drive me home later. There wasn't enough room for my chair in Blaine's car. He's still here and isn't hungover either, considering he wasn't drinking last night, but Kurt's not in great shape and he's busy taking care of him, so I've been making sure Finn and Sam are alright. And Sam mentioned that he carried you in here last night when you were passed out and said I should check on you, too, so here I am."

"I passed out and Sam had to carry me in here?" she asked flatly. What a wonderful first welcome-back-impression she must have made on her friend.

"Yeah, sorry Q, I probably should have left that detail out. But, if it makes you feel any better, I had to wheel Santana out to Blaine's car in my lap last night."

"I'm sure she's thrilled about that."

"Eh, she probably doesn't even remember it."

"Please tell me that other than eventually passing out I didn't do anything too embarrassing last night?"

"You were sick and Blaine sat with you in the bathroom for a while. But that's pretty much it. And Tina ended up getting sick, too, so you're not alone in that either."

"Blaine helped me while I was throwing up? God, I don't even know him. That's humiliating."

"Well, he was the designated taking care of drunk people person, and he's not really a judgmental guy, so I'm sure it's fine by him. Besides, at least you didn't take your top off."

"Who did that?"

"Rachel."

Quinn snickers before she can stop herself. Yeah, her rivalry with Rachel is stupid and is mostly devoid of malice and is only still in place for keeping up with appearances at this point, but she did go after Finn last year while Quinn was dating him, so she supposes it's not the worst thing in the world to get a little enjoyment out of the other girl embarrassing herself.

"Blaine made breakfast. You want some pancakes?"

"No, thanks. I don't feel up to eating," she says, and it's not a complete lie.

Artie looks at her strangely, and it's a little confusing considering if she was so drunk last night that she threw up and eventually had to be carried up to bed, it should be believable that she doesn't want to eat the next morning, but she decides that she's probably so hungover that she's just imagining it.

"Okay, well he made a lot, so just let me know if you change your mind," he finally says.

"I think I'm actually just going to head out…"

"Hey, no. Stay a little while. You're not in any shape to drive."

"Artie-

"Come on, Quinn. You can barely sit up right now, you shouldn't be driving. If you have somewhere you really have to be I'm sure Blaine could give you a ride."

"No, I'll stay for a while," she concedes, because being alone in a car with a boy whose name she forgot only a few short hours before he then had to take care of her whilst she was drunk off of her ass sounds close to torture.

"Cool. I'm gonna go make sure Finn's still breathing. He definitely had too much to drink last night. Just holler if you need me."

"Got it," she mumbles, hoping everyone would let her just hide in bed until she's deemed functional enough to drive.

Another knock on the door a few minutes later lets her know that her wish isn't going to come true anytime soon.

"Yes?"

"Hey," Sam says softly, cautiously pushing the door open, "I just came by to see if you were alright."

"I'm a little worse for wear, but I'm much better off than I was last night, from what I'm told."

"You don't remember much of last night, do you?"

"I remember the first and second shots of tequila, but not much after that," she concedes, looking down at her hands in embarrassment.

"You were drunk as hell, Quinn," he says, before seeing the look on her face and quickly adding a, "you didn't do anything stupid or anything, but I had to-

"Carry me up here. I know, Artie told me. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I'm just a little worried about you, is all."

"Oh, I'm fine. My head is killing me, but I'll live."

"I'm not talking about your hangover, but I am glad that you're not suffering like Kurt is this morning. Kid is a total lightweight. I just mean that you and I went to a lot of parties together back when we were dating and I don't think I've ever seen you have more than two drinks in one night. And last night you had… a lot of drinks."

One of the things that she really appreciates about Sam is how straightforward he is. He isn't always the most tactful or articulate guy, but he always gets straight to the point and isn't afraid to say whatever it is that's on his mind. She admires how he can just casually bring up when they dated as if it's no big deal, but right now she just wants him to shut up and go away. She's missed him, but she doesn't have a good explanation for last night other than "I don't really know what's going on with me and I don't feel like myself anymore" and she figures that's too heavy for friendly exes who haven't seen each other in months.

He can tell that she's racking her brain to try and come up with something to say to him, and he sighs and sits down on the corner of the bed.

"You know you can talk to me, right?"

"I know that," she says smoothly, even though she really doesn't know if she can talk to him or not, "there's just nothing to talk about. I just went too far last night. It happens."

"Yeah, but not usually to you."

"Sam, I'm fine. I just need to stay away from tequila."

He gives her a long, hard look and she can feel the disbelief radiating from him, but he apparently decides to let it go.

"Okay," he says, getting up from the bed, "but if you decide that there _is_ something to talk about, you know where to find me."

"Wait," she calls out as Sam is walking out of the room, suddenly confused, because she's not exactly sure she _does_ know where to find him, "why aren't you staying in this room? Is Carole having you bunk with Finn to try and keep him from getting Rachel pregnant?"

"Well, as funny as it would be if my new foster mother was using me as a form of birth control for her real son, I am staying in this room. I just took the couch last night because I thought you'd want the bed."

"Sam, you didn't have to give me your bed."

"A gentleman doesn't let a drunk girl sleep on the couch, Quinn."

"Fair enough. Thank you, though."

"No need to thank for me. Just take it easy on the liquor next time, okay?"

He's doing that thing where he's joking but not really joking, and she just nods her head. She knows him well enough to know that he's worried about her but isn't going to push it out of fear of her shutting down on him, which was a central theme of their relationship back when they were together.

 _Somethings never change_ , she thinks to herself bitterly.

"Oh, Quinn, you sure you don't want any pancakes? Artie told me you weren't hungry, but you might feel better if you eat something."

"No, I'm good, Sam."

"Kay. I'm gonna go see if Blaine needs any help with Kurt. See you around, Q."

"See ya," she says quietly, her eyes welling with tears as he leaves.

 _You have no idea how much of a problem "you might feel better if you eat something" really is for me_.

 _Author's note: Thank you for the kind reviews on this story. Fair warning to any diehard Sam/Quinn shippers like myself, Sam trying to get Mercedes back is still going to be a thing in this story, and he and Quinn are just going to be friends for a good while. Quinn and Sam's strong friendship after their breakup is one of my favorite things about this pairing, so I really just want to work with that dynamic for a while. Additionally, Quinn doesn't have the capacity for any sort of romantic relationship at this point in the story. (In other words, they're going to be end game in this story, but be patient. Besides, Quinn's journey, and not romance, is the main focus of this story. But that being said, the growth of her relationships, both friendships and an eventual romantic reconciliation with Sam, are definitely a part of that.)_


	6. Chapter 6

When Mr. Schuester goes off on Quinn for falling asleep in glee rehearsal for the second time that week, it takes everything within her to just nod solemnly and say it won't happen again (which is what she said the first time) instead of rolling her eyes.

Because _yes, Mr. Schue, I'm totally falling asleep in glee to be disrespectful, not because I'm so exhausted that I'm having trouble keeping my eyes open at pretty much all times_.

She supposes she's earned the berating, considering she's also fallen asleep in his Spanish class a couple of times this year, but she can't help but be annoyed. Puck falling asleep in glee and in class? Happens all the time. Nothing to be concerned about. Brittany? Wouldn't be too surprising.

But she's _Quinn Fabray_ , and she doesn't sleep in class. Or at least, she didn't. She's a perfectionist when it comes to her schoolwork and always has been, which is something Mr. Schuester should have picked up on by this point. But Mr. Schue just seems to think her inability to stay awake and her lack of enthusiasm as of late to be some leftover attitude from her rendezvous with the skanks, and that she's still in a bit of a rebellious phase. Or that she's still stuck up over her social status and feels that she's too good for glee club. The latter is an option that she couldn't fully blame him for thinking, but it still bothers her a little bit that he can't see that there's something larger at play here.

(Even if she won't admit what it is.)

Artie, apparently, is also bothered by Mr. Schuester's tirade directed at her.

"She said she was sorry, Mr. Schue," he says quietly, and their teacher turns to him with obvious irritation on his face. There are a couple of gasps, because while Mr. Schue rarely gets genuinely angry at any of them, it's historically not a great idea to talk back to him when he does.

"I wasn't talking to you, Artie."

"I know, I just think-

"I didn't ask."

Tina's mouth drops wide open, and Mercedes pulls out her phone, presumably to record the impending disaster.

"Mr. Schuester," Quinn says quickly before Artie's sudden noble streak can get him into any more trouble, "I really am sorry. I just haven't been sleeping well, but it won't happen again. Can we please get back to rehearsal?"

She flashes Mr. Schuester her best apologetic look, eyes wide an all, and relief washes over her when she sees his jaw unclenching.

"Fine," he sighs, "but no more funny business. And not just from Quinn. All of you need to stop being so complacent and just assuming that we're going to win sectionals because we did last year."

He then launches into one of his patented motivational speeches, and she immediately mentally tunes him out, because there isn't even an inch of her left that genuinely cares about whether they win sectionals or not. She just doesn't want a fellow glee clubber, especially one as nice as Artie, to bear the brunt of the ire that she produced in Mr. Schue.

When rehearsal ends, she grabs her bag and heads for the door as quickly as her tired legs will take her, but not before she can hear Rachel advising Artie not to take a bullet for Quinn that she wouldn't take for him.

She rolls her eyes, because if anything, she totally pushed Artie out of the bullet's path, but it's whatever. She's over caring that the majority of her fellow glee club members like her, but don't trust her not to throw a physical or proverbial slushie in their faces.

Okay, maybe it still stings a little bit, but these days she already things so lowly of herself that it's really not a big deal that other people do, too. Especially not people like Rachel Berry.

"Hey! Quinn!"

She rolls her eyes, because no one seems to be able to just _leave her the fuck alone_ lately, which is pretty much the one thing that she wants from her friends.

"Yes?" she asks tiredly, willing herself not to cross her arms and glare. Because really, what has Mercedes ever done to her? It's not the other girl's fault that her patience is perpetually thin as of late.

"Can I ask you something…" she starts, quickly surveying the area around them to make sure that no one else is within earshot, "about Sam?"

Quinn raises an eyebrow at that, intrigued. She knows that Sam and Mercedes had some sort of summer romance before Sam moved away, but she doesn't know any of the details. She has no idea how serious it was, and she's never seen them together, so she has no idea what they were like as a couple.

Mercedes and Sam are probably her two favorite people in glee with her though, (barring Brittany and Santana whom she was friends with prior to glee), so she figures they're probably lovely together, and she _does_ still care about their individual happiness, as distant from human connection as she tends to be this year.

So if they make each other happy, she's happy for them. And if Mercedes needs a little advice on Sam, she doesn't mind giving it, even if her best Sam Evans advice is probably "don't make out with Finn Hudson."

But then she remembers that she's seen Mercedes on another boy's arm this year. (A boy whose name she does not know, but she's never met him before so she figures that's less egregious than not knowing Kurt's-boyfriend-whom-she sings-with-on-the-regular's name.)

(She just can't seem to shake the uneasiness that's settled in her gut over forgetting Blaine's name. She doesn't forget people's names. She'll occasionally passive aggressively pretend to, but her memory has always been sharp as a tack.)

"Oh sorry, I know you guys' breakup wasn't very pretty. It's fine. See you tomorrow, Quinn."

Quinn looks at Mercedes in confusion, and then realizes that she never responded to the other girl's question.

"Mercedes, wait. It's fine. Sam and I are friends now. I just zoned out for a moment."

"Okay, good. Well, you know how I've been seeing someone else this year?"

"Yes," she says warily, hoping she's not about to hear Mercedes tell her about how she's cheating on her boyfriend with Sam.

"Well, his name is Shane and I really like him. But now Sam's back and… I thought I was over him but now I'm not so sure. And I'm trying to stay focused on Shane and ignore Sam, but I can tell that he wants me back. And he's so romantic, I'm just having a hard time completely shutting him down. Does that make me a horrible person?"

"No," Quinn smiles, "Sam is a dork, but an admittedly romantic one. And when he likes someone, he _likes_ someone. The attention is very flattering, I remember that much."

"How did you deal with it?"

"I'm probably not the best person to ask, considering I was _very_ adamant about not having a boyfriend last year, and Sam still ended up winning me over anyway. He can be very persistent, and don't tell him I said this, but he's very charming."

"I just don't know what I want and I feel terrible about it."

"Well, you never expected Sam to come back, so you're not a bad person for starting over with someone new. And you're not a bad person for still having some leftover feelings for Sam. But you do need to figure out what you want, or I guess, _who_ you want."

"And how do I do that?" Mercedes groans, and Quinn can't help but laugh, even if it's a little hollow.

"Listen, I'm notorious for getting into trouble romantically because I'm not sure what I want," she says, because even though it's actually a bit more complicated than that, she can relate, "but as cliché as it sounds, I think you need to just look inside your heart. Take a couple days to think about which relationship is more worth pursuing. And Sam is a wonderful person and if you decide you want to date him, I will be 100% supportive, but make sure it's not just nostalgia or infatuation that you're feeling for him so you don't leave your perfectly nice boyfriend on a whim."

"You're right," she sighs heavily, "thanks, Quinn."

"Oh, and one more word of advice?"

Mercedes turns to her eagerly, and Quinn almost feels bad that she's about to make a joke instead of giving her more sincere guidance.

"If one of them gets you pregnant, don't lie and tell the other one that they're the father."

"Quinn!" Mercedes shrieks, lightly smacking her on the shoulder.

"What? It's important!"

"Girl, I still can't believe you did that. No offence."

"None taken."

She walks with Mercedes out to her car, joking about how the hell Finn ever fell for that lie, because enough time has passed that even Finn himself finds it funny.

Mercedes leans in to hug her before she gets in her car to drive away, and Quinn accepts the hug because she doesn't want to be rude, and because it feels good that Mercedes trusts her enough to ask her for advice about their shared ex-boyfriend.

"Get some sleep tonight, Quinnie, okay? I don't want Mr. Schue to go after you and Artie again tomorrow."

"I will," she smiles tightly, bidding goodbye to her friend and walking toward her own car.

It's most likely a lie. It's not like she gets exactly _zero_ sleep, but she spends a good portion of each night staring at the ceiling, wishing she was asleep. It's ironic and cruel that as exhausted as she is from taking out her pain on her body, the hunger in her belly and aching in her muscles keep her awake, which in turn just adds to her exhaustion.

If Mr. Schuester knew the truth about what was going on with her, he would probably be _begging_ her to sleep in class.

She gets in her car and begins her daily ritual of sitting with her head on the steering wheel for a few minutes before she feels physically well enough to drive.

She didn't even have cheerios practice today, but just the walk from the choir room out to the parking a lot is enough to make her lightheaded, which admittedly terrifies her a little bit.

Her conversation with Mercedes was a fleeting few moments of levity, but as she sits in her car, willing her vision to straighten out, it dawns on her that it's not her reality. _This_ is.

Whether or not to date Same Evans isn't her biggest problem anymore. In fact, boy drama of any kind isn't a problem for her at all.

She always thought it would make her happy when she moved past the part of her life that was ruled by dating and boys.

She remembers how the year before, she had decided that she was going to do just that: move on from it. But then she ended up entangled up with Sam, and then with Finn. She remembers how much she wished she could just stay single and live beyond it all.

Well, now she's single, with no romantic prospects at all.

Just not for the right reasons.


	7. Chapter 7

Quinn's alarm goes off and she groans, the sound piercing through her disoriented and aching head. Her eyelids aren't cooperating with her command to open them, and her hand fumbles halfheartedly for her phone to make the shrill noise go away.

It's not often that she sleeps soundly throughout most of the night, but last night had been one of the few exceptions in which the exhaustion mounts up to the point that it thoroughly knocks her out. It happens once every couple of weeks, and each time it feels like a godsend.

She feels like she could fall back asleep, and decides to do just that. She _desperately_ needs the sleep, and her mother isn't even home to pretend to care about her daughter missing school.

(She actually doesn't know where her mother has been these past couple of days, but she tries not to worry about it.)

Quinn has never been one to miss school, having only missed school three times in her entire high school career; twice when she had mono, and once when her morning sickness was so bad when she was pregnant with Beth that she had thrown up four times just trying to get ready for school.

Her attendance record is something that she prides herself in, but right now she's just so _tired_ and more and more of what used to be important to her is just slipping through her hands as the days and weeks go by.

Sure, she'll probably get detention for missing school without a parent calling in that she's sick, and both Coach Sylvester and Mr. Schuester will want her head for missing cheerios practice and glee rehearsal respectively, but she legitimately can't find it within herself to care.

She closes her eyes, hoping that after she finally gets some damn sleep that she'll be able to care again.

She dozes on and off until just after two in the afternoon, which thoroughly astonishes her because she's never been one to sleep in, except for occasionally until nine-thirty on a lazy Saturday morning. She looks at her phone again to make sure she's read the time correctly, and rolls her eyes when she sees how many missed text messages she has. Couldn't her friends just assume she's sick and leave her alone?

Mike wants to know if she wants to see his notes from math, Artie says hey and wants to know why she wasn't in Spanish, Mercedes asks if she's alright, Finn warns her that Mr. Schuester is frustrated that she was a no show for class and for glee without telling anyone she was sick, Santana wants to know where the fuck she is, and Rachel lets her know that they're having a weekend glee rehearsal tomorrow.

She also has two missed calls, one from Kurt and one from Sam. She sees she has a new voicemail, but she hates checking her voicemail, so she doesn't even bother to check and see which one left a message, let alone listen it.

She sighs and responds solely to Mike, telling him that if he could bring his notes to the Saturday glee rehearsal they're apparently having tomorrow, then that would be lovely.

She receives a _you got it, Q_ a few seconds later, and smiles weakly.

She eventually drags herself out of bed and changes out of her pajamas, being sure to avoid looking in the mirror while doing so. She's not having a terrible day, on account of her sleeping through it thus far, so why ruin it by fixating on her body, obsessing over flaws like she does most days when she's getting dressed?

She pulls a pair of sweatpants over her hips, not knowing how to feel when she notices that they fit a little looser than they did the last time she wore them. She tries not to think of it, throws a random t-shirt on, and slowly pads down the stairs in her favorite pair of slippers.

She treads into the kitchen wearily, knowing that she should eat something, but not knowing what she's going to be able to convince herself to eat without feeling soul crushingly guilty over it afterwards. She's having a good day (again, because she hasn't been awake for any of it), and really doesn't want to change that.

A knock on the door breaks her out of her reverie, and she tries to just ignore it, because if it were her mother, she would've just used her keys to open the door, and she's not expecting anyone else.

Whoever it is makes it apparent that they are _not_ going to stop knocking on the door, and Quinn sighs, having a fairly good idea of who it might be. She must have seen her car in the driveway, so Quinn knows she just can't pretend that she's not there. It's not like her friend is going to just get bored and give up.

Santana Lopez is nothing if not persistent.

Quinn's suspicions are confirmed when she finally opens the door, and Santana angrily storms in, yelling at her.

"So you can answer Mike Chang but not me?"

"Hello to you, too, Santana."

"What are you doing here? You should be at cheerios practice."

"Uh, what are _you_ doing here? Shouldn't _you_ be at cheerios practice? You're the captain, after all."

"And as captain, it's my duty to make sure that every cheerio makes it to practice. And since you were a no show for school today without saying a peep to anyone, I figured I should pay you a visit to find out what the fuck is going on."

"Oh please. Like you care _that_ much."

"You're right. I don't. Not about the other girls, at least. But I do care about you. So I'm going to give you one more chance to tell me what the hell is going on with you."

"One more chance before what? I don't have a boyfriend for you to steal or sext this year, and I'm really not in the mood for another catfight."

"One more chance before I tell Mr. Schuester about what I overheard you doing in the locker room," she says calmly, and Quinn has known her long enough to be able to tell that she's not bluffing. She's serious. Completely, deadly serious.

"Santana," she says firmly, trying to keep her rising panic at bay, "that was a one time thing."

"Okay, then tell me why you keep falling asleep in glee? Why weren't you in school today? Why do you never pay attention in glee or at cheerios practice anymore? Why don't you eat lunch anymore?"

"I do eat lunch," she lies, because how the hell would Santana even know that she doesn't?

"No, you don't. You just sit in the library during your lunch period. Artie's been following you."

"Artie's been following me? What the fuck?"

"Listen, Q, you weren't talking to me and you know that I'm the kind of bitch who always gets to the bottom of things, so I linked up with hot wheels to try and figure out what's going on with you."

"This is insane," she shouts, "you are insane. I am _fine_ , Santana."

" _No_ , you're not. You may be crafty as hell, but you're not going to wiggle your way out of this one. So if it's not what I think it is, then what the hell is going on with you? Because I know something is going on."

"Nothing is going on," she says through gritted teeth.

"For such a smart girl, you're a really bad liar, Q."

"I'm not lying."

"Yes, you are. God, you are so damn stubborn! Just talk to me. Or talk to Mr. Schue. It's your choice, I guess."

"Don't you dare tell him," Quinn growls, but Santana isn't intimidated.

"If you were just making yourself throw up one time, then why do you care if I tell Mr. Schue? If it was just a one time thing, and you don't have a problem, then why can't you just tell him that?"

"Because he won't believe me," she says carefully, knowing Santana is very close to having backed her into a corner.

"Because it's not the truth."

"Because he's a teacher," she says forcefully, "he has to take these things seriously. It's the law."

"Because these things _are_ serious. Don't you remember what happened to Lilly? She died of this shit, Quinn!"

"Yeah, well I'm not like her!" she yells.

She sees the tears well up in Santana's eyes, and immediately recognizes that she's said the wrong thing.

"Why not? You've got it under control, right? You're _fine_. She used to say all that same bullshit, Quinn. And I am _not_ going to let you end up like her, do you hear me?"

"I'm not going to end up like her because I don't have an eating disorder."

"Sure you don't, Quinn!"

"Santana-

"Look me in the eye."

"What?"

"Look me in the eye and tell me that you haven't made yourself throw up since the day I caught you two weeks ago. Tell me that you haven't been skipping meals. Look me in the eye, Quinn."

"Santana," she chokes out, her throat suddenly feeling very tight, "I'm fine."

Santana chuckles darkly and shakes her head, the tears she had been holding back spilling out from her eyes and onto her cheeks.

"Yeah," she says, her voice eerily calm, "well that wasn't what I asked."

Before Quinn can try and come up with some excuse, some way to try and persuade her friend to not believe what had just become so abundantly clear, she's out the front door, as quickly as she had come rushing in just a few short minutes before.

Quinn falls into a chair at her kitchen table, feeling numb.

Santana waits until she's safely in the front seat of her car before she starts to sob, on the off chance that Quinn might follow her out. She lets herself cry until her chest hurts, before furiously wiping at her cheeks and pulling out her phone, sending a text to Artie.

 _We were right. And she's not going to listen to us. We need to tell Mr. Schue._

Artie texts back immediately, asking Santana if Quinn admitted it.

 _Pretty much. She said enough that I'm sure. She needs help and she's not going to go about it willingly._

Her phone lights up, telling her that Artie's calling her, and she's annoyed but answers anyway.

"Why are you calling me? You could've just texted back like a normal person," she says as bitchily as she possibly can considering what had just transpired, hoping her voice doesn't betray the fact that she's been crying.

"How bad is it?"

"It's bad," she whispers, and Artie is silent long enough that she begins to wonder if he even heard her.

"You want to talk to Mr. Schue after rehearsal tomorrow?"

"Yeah," she sighs, "I think the sooner the better."

"Do you mind if I email him telling him that we need to talk to him after rehearsal tomorrow, and that it's about Quinn and we're worried about her? I just don't want him to yell at her again, and I know he's angry with her for missing rehearsal today."

"You really didn't like it when he got mad at her the other day, did you?"

"Quinn's always trusted Mr. Schue and that's a good thing. She needs to trust him if she's going to listen to him, but that's not going to happen if he keeps yelling at her."

"Fair point, Abrams," she says, not being able to find a hole in his logic, "go ahead and email him. Besides, that way we can't chicken out of it."

Artie is quiet for another long moment again, and Santana is about to just hang up on him because conversing with him in a non-threatening manner is still weird for her, when he speaks again, his voice barely audible.

"This will help her right? Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury will be able to help?"

"I sure hope so, Abrams," she all but cries, "I sure hope so."

 _Author's note: An update two days in a row, who am I? I'm just trying to appreciate all the time I have to write before classes start up again, when I'll still continue this story, but it'll definitely be harder to find the time to write for non-college related things. Also, Puck/Shelby/Beth will come back into play within the next few chapters. I haven't forgotten about that, I promise, especially since it's such an important catalyst for Quinn having a difficult time._


	8. Chapter 8

When Quinn rushes into their weekend glee rehearsal fifteen minutes late, huffing and puffing and shooting out a rushed apology, she can feel the glee club collectively holding their breath.

She's fallen asleep twice this past week in rehearsal, and she didn't even show up for rehearsal at all the day before. Given the way Mr. Schuester snapped at her on Wednesday and the fact that sectionals are only two weeks away, they're all expecting the rare but ruthless wrath of their show choir director to be sprung upon her.

She braces herself, hoping to make it through the heated admonishment without bursting into tears in front of everyone. She can handle Coach Sylvester yelling at her- it happens all the time. But disappointment from Mr. Schuester is so rare that it makes her feel genuinely guilty when it does fall upon her, because she knows she's truly done something to warrant it.

(Sometimes Coach Sylvester will scream at her for her ponytail "not being perky enough.")

When Mr. Schuester looks at her carefully, studying her, and then calmly says, "It's okay, Quinn" before launching back into explaining a new harmony he's adding onto one of their Michael Jackson numbers, the shock and relief in the room are palpable. There are more than a few members of the glee club who appreciate some good old-fashioned melodrama, but they're all friendly enough with each other that no one sincerely enjoys watching one of their own get chewed out.

Tina is marginally pissed off, because apparently, she was also a little late and got a passive aggressive comment about how she must not want to win sectionals that badly, but even she seems mostly glad that they're not going to have to sit through Mr. Schue laying into Quinn again.

She hears a hushed "what the hell is going on with her?" coming from somewhere to her left, but chooses to ignore it and not to glare at whoever said it, because really, it's not only a completely fair question but a question that she herself wishes she knew the answer to.

Quinn does her best to also ignore the pointed looks in her direction from everyone except Artie and Santana, who are seemingly trying to eye fuck the floor for some reason, and to just try and stay focused on the background "oohs" and "aahs" that she's become so accustomed to singing as a second alto.

When Mr. Schuester gives them a ten-minute break halfway through rehearsal, she retreats to the far corner of the auditorium to file her nails, because naturally, that how she's going to spend her break from singing and dancing.

She glances back over toward her fellow glee clubbers, and notices a group of them clustered together, trying to hide the fact that they're all staring at her. She presumes that they're trying to decide which one of them to sacrifice to the fire, and she finds herself praying _not Rachel, not Rachel, please not Rachel_.

Thankfully, it's not Rachel that gets voted off the island, but Sam.

"Quinn," he says upon reaching her, "are you trying to get Mr. Schue to kill you?"

"Funny," she says tersely, not looking up from her nails.

"You're never late to rehearsal, or to anything, really. Are you okay?"

"Just peachy."

She hears him mumble, "well, now you leave me no choice" under his breath and subsequently feels her nail file being snatched from her hand.

"Hey!"

"You can have it back when you talk to me."

"Talk to you about what?" she asks, finally looking up at him, albeit grumpily.

"You tell me."

"Since when did you start telling riddles? Do you live under a bridge now, too?"

"What's going on with you, Q?" he asks, undeterred.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Where were you yesterday?"

"Sick."

"So sick that you couldn't answer Mercedes' text, or my call?"

"What were you doing with Mercedes?" she asks, thinking quickly, "she has a boyfriend, you know."

"Nice subject change, Quinn," he says wryly, but she can see his cheeks flush pink.

She doesn't answer, just glares at him, hoping he'll give up and give her the nail file back.

"You know, you don't look so good. You're still not feeling well, are you?"

"I'd feel a lot better if you gave me back my nail file."

"Quinn."

"My head hurts," she says, internally cringing at how whiney it comes out. But it's true, her head really _is_ killing her. She woke up with a headache that morning (as she often does), and harmonizing and dancing around the stage in the auditorium have not surprisingly made it much worse.

Sam sympathetically pouts his lower lip at her, and she can't help but crack a half smile.

"I'm pretty sure Kurt keeps advil in his bag."

"I'm fine, Sam, really."

"No," he says, shaking his head, "you are not going to spend the rest of rehearsal miserable and in pain because you're too proud to accept pain killers from our very nice friend who happens to be prepared for this exact situation. Come on."

He's putting his hands out to help her up, but this time it's her turn to shake her head at him.

"I'll give you back your nail file if you come with me."

"Fine," she huffs, allowing Sam to pull her to her feet.

When they get back to the stage where the same group that was _definitely_ _not_ trying to decide which one of them should go talk to her is now trying very hard to seem like they were _definitely not_ scrutinizing her and Sam's conversation from afar, Sam does the talking to Kurt for her, which she's appreciative of.

" _Sick?"_ she sees Blaine mouth at Sam out of the corner of her eye.

Sam nods, and Quinn does her best not to make eye contact with the couple of matching concerned frowns that are now looking her up and down.

(Even if it's entirely possible that they're mostly interested in her today for the drama of it all, it does feel a little nice to see that they care about her in some capacity.)

Sam walks toward her with two pills and a half empty bottle of water, and she accepts them graciously.

"Thank you," she says quietly, trying not to draw any more attention to herself.

"Anytime, Q. You just gotta tell me when something's wrong."

She doesn't say anything back to that, because if she were to try and reassure him, it would almost certainly be a lie and she's done more than enough lying to her friends recently.

Her lack of response is not lost on Sam, but he knows better than to press her on it with several of their friends standing around them.

"You want your nail file back?"

"He took her nail file to get her to talk to him?" she hears Finn try and fail at whispering, "that's genius, man. Why didn't I ever think of that when I was dating her?"

"Oh, shut up," Rachel hisses, smacking his chest.

"Yes, please," Quinn smiles at Sam, laughing gently, because Finn _would_ be dumb enough to say something like that in front of his current girlfriend.

Sam hands it over just in time for Mr. Schuester to walk back into the auditorium, effectively ending their break and consequently, her nail filing time.

"Sorry, Q," Sam chuckles, "next time just tell me what's wrong the first time I ask you."

It takes a great deal of restraint for her not to smack _him_ in the chest.

The second half of rehearsal passes slowly and uneventfully. When Mr. Schue dismisses them, she hangs back a minute to accept the copy of the previous day's math notes that Mike has oh so nicely made for her.

She wishes she had just left without the notes, however, when she hears Mr. Schuester say "Santana, Artie, you two wanted to talk to me? Why don't you follow me down to my office?"

Her blood runs cold and her face must show it, because suddenly Mike has a hand on her back and is ushering her into a chair.

"Quinn, are you okay?" he asks, kneeling down in front of her and tentatively placing a hand on her shoulder.

She looks around and is momentarily relieved when she sees that Mr. Schuester has already left the auditorium and isn't going to come over to her and Mike at the sight of her obvious state of distress, but then she remembers _why_ he isn't in the room and starts to panic again.

 _Her and Santana's argument yesterday. Santana mentioning that Artie had been helping keep an eye on her. Neither of them making eye contact with her today. Them wanting to talk to Mr. Schue together._

 _They're going to tell him._

"Quinn?"

"Oh, I-I," she stammers, trying to reign herself in before she has complete breakdown in front of Mike Chang.

"What's wrong?" he asks, more than a little bewildered, "do you want me to go get Mr. Schue? He just left but I can-

"No," she says, a little too emphatically.

She can tell from Mike's face that he's perplexed by just how much she doesn't want to get their teacher involved, but he doesn't ask her about it, probably on account of the fact that they don't know each other all that well. Sure, they're friendly, but they lean closer to the acquaintance category than the friend category.

This whole situation is more than a little awkward, but Quinn knows that Mike is too nice of a guy to just walk away from her when she's clearly having some sort of moment, as uncomfortable as it may be for him. He might not try and pry her open about why she is very adamantly against him getting Mr. Schuester to check on her, but he _is_ going to want some sort of explanation for what just happened before he's going to be comfortable with leaving her alone.

"I just got a little dizzy for a moment," she says calmly, "I've been sick and probably should've sat out the dancing part of rehearsal today."

"Yeah, I figured that's why you weren't at school yesterday."

She exhales in relief when she realizes that Mike believes her, and she isn't going to have to try and come up with some other excuse.

"I'm okay now, though."

"How about I sit with you for a few minutes, just to be sure?"

She really just wants to get the hell out of the auditorium on the off chance that their teacher will come strolling back in, because she most definitely is not ready for _that_ conversation.

She knows she can't put it off forever. In fact, she knows that she probably can only put it off until Monday. But if she can avoid it until then, she sure as hell is going to.

But Mike is too genuinely good of a person to let a friendly acquaintance whom he believes just had a dizzy spell run away without making sure that she's alright, so she agrees to hang back for a little bit to avoid an argument that she unquestionably would lose.

He sits in front of her, legs crossed on the floor of the stage, and makes small talk with her until he's confident that she won't immediately pass out upon standing. He then gives her a ride home, refusing to let her drive herself, and assuring her that either he or Tina will give her a ride to school on Monday.

It doesn't make her feel any better, though, because having someone come pick her up makes her obligated to go to school and see Will Schuester, but she can't exactly tell Mike that.

Later that night when she checks her email, she sees that she has a message from her glee club director. She opens it, despite already knowing what it's going to say.

He wants her to hang back after he dismisses her Spanish class for lunch on Monday. He needs to talk to her.


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's note: enjoy this super quick update because I actually wrote this part a while ago!_

"You wanted to see me?" she asks timidly, once all her fellow classmates have left to go to the lunch. Artie shot her an apologetic glance as he left, but she just averted her eyes, not being in the mood for forgiveness and not having the grit in her to give him one of her signature bitch glares, either.

She's standing in between two rows of desks, and she watches Mr. Schuester gently close the door shut. He takes a few steps back toward her before stopping so that he's still closer to the door than he is to her, which she imagines is a deliberate choice on his part to keep her from running out.

Her heart is pounding so hard that it hurts, banging against the walls of her chest, and she feels like she might throw up on the linoleum floor if her teacher doesn't hurry up and put her out of her misery by saying something.

"Have a seat, Quinn."

"I'd rather-

"Quinn, sit," he says quietly yet with enough firmness that she knows that there is zero room for argument.

He's looking at her in a way that reminds her of sophomore year, back when she was pregnant.

"I want you to know that you're not in any trouble," he says slowly after she's seated, "this isn't about you missing class or being late to rehearsal. And I got Figgins to throw out your detention for not coming to school on Friday."

He's silent for a moment, studying her face for any trace of emotion, before he takes a deep breath and continues.

"Do you know what this is about?" he asks softly.

She looks down at her lap, fidgeting with her hands, trying to come up with something to say that would work to her advantage. She had told herself coming into this that she needed to be careful and crafty in what she said in order to convince Mr. Schuester that Santana and Artie were overreacting and that she was fine. But as she's sitting there, frozen with fear, her mind is only drawing up blanks.

"Santana and Artie talked to you," she finally says, not looking up from her lap.

"Quinn, I think I owe you an apology," he says, and her eyes snap up to him in surprise.

"I think you've been giving me signs that something hasn't been right for a while now. I think you've been showing me that you've been struggling, and I just haven't been receptive to it. I interpreted you quitting glee club over the summer as you just trying to change things up, and I interpreted your Spanish grade dropping as you just getting complacent like a lot of students do their senior year. But that's not you, and I should've known that. And I should've known that you not paying attention and falling asleep in glee and in class was more than just an attitude problem. You were trying to tell me that something was wrong and I wasn't listening. I let you down and I'm sorry, Quinn."

"I-I don't… Mr. Schuester I…." she trails off, trying to streamline her disjointed thoughts into some form of a coherent sentence and failing. Her eyes are stinging with tears and she's too stunned to be in the frame of mind to try and blink them back.

She expected disappointment, she expected to be told that she should know better. She expected to be told that she was jeopardizing the glee club's shot at nationals this year.

She did not expect compassion.

"I want you to know that you can trust me," he continues, "and I want you to know that I'm not judging you for what Artie and Santana told me, and that I'm not going to judge you for anything that you might tell me, okay? I'm not here to judge you. I'm here to help."

"I don't need help."

She knows that her petrified demeanor and the tears streaming down her cheeks are likely in opposition to her words, but she's never been one to admit that she needs help, not even to herself.

"I know that you might not think so," he says, placing the box of tissues from his desk onto hers, "but I think that you do."

She doesn't trust herself to say anything without fully breaking down into sobs, so she just shakes her head, and wipes at her eyes with a tissue.

Mr. Schuester comes a few steps closer toward her, and Quinn can't help but admire his composure. She can tell that the revelation of her troubles has affected him emotionally, but he's not on the verge of falling apart the way she is. He's concerned, but not frantic. He's sympathetic, but steady in his resolve. He's not going to yield to her like she had hoped he might.

 _Ms. Pillsbury prepared him well for this_ , she thinks, knowing that she had to have been the faculty power couple's primary topic of conversation over the weekend.

"What Artie and Santana told me makes sense, and the more I thought about it, the more I wondered how I possibly could have missed it. You haven't had any energy, you haven't been looking well, you can't focus anymore, and whenever there's food in glee you refuse it."

"I-It's not what you think," she sniffles, unsuccessfully willing herself to pull herself together and stop crying in front Mr. Schuester, god damn it.

"Then what is it?"

The room is silent for a long moment except for the sound of Quinn's crying, and Mr. Schuester nods his head sadly, as if he knew what (lack of) response he was going to get, but was still hoping that she'd surprise him with some viable, more palatable explanation for her uncharacteristic behavior.

"The longer you try and deny what's going on here and the more that you pretend that this isn't a problem, the worse it's going to get, Quinn. It's not just going to go away on its own."

 _Yep, he is definitely quoting Ms. Pillsbury at her._

"I'm fine," she says quietly, tensing for the reprimand as soon as the words are out of her mouth.

"You can keep saying that, but that doesn't mean it's true. You're not eating enough and you've been making yourself throw up. That's not fine, Quinn. This is serious and I'm not going to just turn a blind eye to it."

She wraps her arms around her frame, feeling the need to try and protect herself physically from what she's feeling emotionally. She feels vulnerable and exposed, and as much as she trusts Mr. Schuester, she never meant for him to find out about what she's been doing to herself, and she's not ready to open up to him or anyone else about it.

It feels far too personal, far too shameful for her to share with anyone.

"I talked to Ms. Pillsbury, and she's going to want to talk to you, too. And based on that conversation, she'll use her professional opinion to decide whether to contact your mother or not. Ms. Pillsbury is probably going to want to see you once a week, but her and I are in agreement that you should also be seeing someone else outside of school. She'll give you a list of therapists in the area that have experience in treating eating disorders."

"I don't have an eating disorder."

"I can't force you to get help outside of school, and I can't force you to take this seriously, I realize that. But you have to know that I care about you, and that Artie and Santana and everyone else in glee club cares about you, too, and we don't want to see you suffer. And there has to be some part of you, even if it's deep down, that doesn't want to keep suffering this way, either."

Quinn doesn't say anything, just continues to cry, because she legitimately has _no idea_ if there's any part of her that wants to stop, as miserable as she is.

"Can you tell me how long this has been going on?"

His question is met with more silence on her end. Giving him a time frame would essentially be an admission of guilt, and she realizes that Mr. Schuester is already more than aware of what's going on with her, but she's still not looking to admit to it out loud.

"I need you to talk to me, Quinn. Can you tell me what you're thinking right now?"

What she's thinking is that she's sorry.

She's sorry that she can't do something as simple as eat correctly.

She's sorry that she's close to failing his Spanish class and that she's now the weakest link of his glee club, too.

She's sorry that as hard as she tries, she can't seem to keep it together.

She's sorry that most of the glee club thinks she's a heartless, self-obsessed bitch.

She's sorry that she messed up so badly that her father abandoned her and that her mother doesn't pay attention to her anymore.

She's sorry that she slept with Puck when she was dating his best friend.

She's sorry that she can't stop thinking about Beth.

She's sorry that she's been an absolute train wreck, causing pain to those around her because she hasn't been able to move on from something that happened two years ago.

 _She's sorry._

"You're not leaving this classroom until you communicate with me. I don't have a class next period, so I'm more than prepared to wait you out."

She glowers at him, and if he wasn't her teacher, the next words out of her mouth would be _why are you doing this to me?_

He seems to be able to tell what she's thinking, however, because the next words out of his mouth are, "Quinn, I'm not trying to punish you. You're not in any trouble, remember? I'm not mad you, I'm concerned. I meant what I said when I told you that I wasn't going to turn a blind eye to this."

"What do you want me to say?" she asks quietly, and she's not even trying to be bitchy. She's just not sure what he wants from her.

"Whatever it is that's on your mind."

"I think you're overreacting," she says, and yeah, maybe it's a little ballsy to say to someone in a position of authority over her, but he did just tell her to say _whatever_ she's thinking.

"Do you actually think I'm overreacting, or are you just saying that so I'll leave you alone?"

"Maybe a little bit of both," she sighs, because she does not foresee Mr. Schuester backing down anytime soon.

Her bit of honesty gets a small, restrained smile out of him.

"Well, I'm not going to leave you alone. Do you understand why not?"

"Because as my teacher you're legally obligated not to?"

"Because as someone who cares for you, I take you hurting yourself very seriously."

"I'm not-

"Quinn, there's no use in lying to me. I already know what's going on here. So will you please tell me how long this has been going on for?"

"Since the beginning of the summer," she whispers.

She sees the heartbreak in his eyes and an apology is flying out of her mouth before she can stop herself.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Schue. I never meant for-

"Hey, stop that. You have nothing to apologize for, okay? This isn't your fault. _I'm_ sorry that you didn't feel like you could come to me about this."

"I m-messed up," she stammers out, now crying again, "I r-really messed up and I'm so sorry."

She's reminded of when her father found out she was pregnant, and she cried, apologizing to him and begging him to hold her and tell her that everything was going to be okay.

But instead, he had thrown her out of the house.

She feels herself being coaxed out of her chair so that Mr. Schuester can envelope her in a hug.

"Shh, Quinn. It's okay. Everything's going to be okay."


	10. Chapter 10

Puck is growing impatient with her, which is no surprise.

Puck is always impatient with her, which is probably their Achilles heel.

He could have pried her away from Finn, minus the cheating, with time. He could have waited. He could have chosen not to give her another wine cooler, not to push her so far that one night.

When he was trying to woo her away from Finn when she was pregnant, he could have waited for her to feel ready to open herself to him intimately again. He could have waited and not sexted Santana and kept on sleeping with her.

He could have had her again, after that summer, before Sam joined the glee club. But he couldn't wait it out and not get into any trouble. He stole an ATM and ended up in juvie.

Puck can never wait.

Especially not when it comes to her.

Now he's tired of waiting for her to want to meet their biological daughter.

Even if she _did_ want to communicate to him why she doesn't want anything to do with Beth, she's not sure she could fully articulate it. But she doesn't even want to.

Perhaps there was a time where that sort of emotional vulnerability between them would have made sense, but she doesn't feel the connection to him that she feels like she should.

A year and a half ago, they had a baby together, and while she knows that they'll always be bonded in a way, he just doesn't feel special to her the way that he used to. If one of them were really in trouble, they'd have the other person's bond, but that's about as far as it goes.

(Maybe she's really in trouble right now, but she's not going to tell him that.)

They were supposed to be family.

But they haven't been able to get on the same wavelength since their daughter was born, and Quinn suspects that a good chunk of the wedge between them is Puck's inability to forgive her for giving their baby up for adoption.

And she's sure that her refusal to see their baby now that Shelby brought her back into town is just rubbing salt into the wound.

She wishes that Puck could see that it's not because she doesn't care.

It's because she cares too much.

She's been making reckless decisions for the past two years and going crazy trying to fill the void and if anyone should be able to tell, it's Puck.

She _wants_ to not care about Beth, but she's so far from being there that it's laughable.

Her phone buzzes, and when she looks down and sees that she has yet _another_ text from him, she promptly deletes it without even opening it.

He probably thinks she's heartless, and it saddens her a little bit, but Puck pretty much dropped her after she had his baby. He's just as responsible for the breakdown of their relationship as she is.

Maybe having a baby isn't enough to keep two people in each other's lives, and especially not when they're not even raising that baby.

 _I would've been fine_ she thinks, _I would've been fine without him_.

 _If we hadn't crossed paths, I would have never gotten like this._

 _Maybe I'd still be Finn's girlfriend and we'd be prom king and queen._

It's not that she still loves Finn, and she's not sure that she ever truly has, but he was her _before._ Before Puck, before Beth, before her parents kicked her out, before all the mess and bad decisions. He was before.

Last year she had tried to go back, to the before, but she found out that being with Finn again didn't make her feel any different. It's didn't take away her pain or fix all the problems brewing inside her. All it did was break up her and Sam, and pave the way for another Finn and Rachel rendezvous.

She didn't know how to tell Sam _I'm sorry that I cheated on you because I thought being with Finn would make me feel like I did before I had a baby and my life turned to shambles_ , so she just told him she was sorry, and that was apparently enough for him to forgive her enough to be her friend again.

She really doesn't understand Sam and his seemingly endless patience and compassion. She hasn't ever met anyone so fundamentally _good_. She wishes she could be a little bit more like that sometimes, but she figures that's how you get taken advantage of.

(She wasn't too drunk to not be able to give consent, but she does feel a little taken of advantage of by Puck, and she decided that she never wanted to feel that way ever again.)

Sam is still, despite it all, her friend, and both Mr. Schuester and Ms. Pillsbury's words ring in her head.

They both encouraged her to let some of her friends know what's been going on with her, but the thing is, Quinn really doesn't have many friends.

She has Sam, but the fact that she can't stop obsessing about what she does and doesn't eat and is making herself throw up seems a little too heavy for her ex-boyfriend who just transferred back to McKinley and is trying to win back his other ex-girlfriend.

She doesn't want to burden him. She doesn't feel like she deserves his support. And beyond that, she feels ashamed.

Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury both vehemently told her not to feel ashamed but their words aren't nearly enough to assuage the burning fires of shame within her.

She feels stupid and she feels weak.

She feels useless.

She feels like this is all she's good for.

And that's enough to deter her from talking to Mercedes, either, who is probably her only other actual friend.

(She hasn't spoken to Santana or Artie in the week since they ratted her out to Mr. Schue.)

"Sup, MILF?"

She freezes up immediately and the books that she's holding fall to the floor. The same words he used the day he found out she was pregnant. He was angry then, and he's angry now.

"Not now, Puck."

"If not now then when? Do I have to schedule in an appointment? Because if you can't even make time for your _kid_ , then-

"Shut up, Puck," she growls.

It's not the most clever comeback that she's ever come up with, but she's panicking and she's desperate to shut him down. She doesn't want to have this conversation at all, but especially not in the middle of a crowded hallway where people are already beginning to stare.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"A lot of things," she quips, already turning on her heels to walk away from him.

"So what? You can just have a baby and then not care about her anymore?"

"Puck-

"I knew you were the fucking ice queen, but I had no idea you were this fucking cold. Grow a heart will you?"

"That's rich coming from you," she says, even though she's been internally repeating to herself _don't engage, don't engage, don't engage._ Puck has always been able to get underneath her skin.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That you're not exactly a model citizen, either."

"Yeah, well at least I still care about my kid!"

"She's not _our_ kid anymore, Puck."

"God, Quinn, you really are just a heartless bitch, aren't you?"

"Don't talk to her like that," calls a familiar voice, and as he wheels herself toward her, she rolls her eyes because he is the _one_ person that she doesn't want to come to her aid in diffusing this very loud and very public confrontation.

"Watch your mouth, Puckerman," yells another voice, and Quinn rolls her eyes, because no, there's a _second_ person she doesn't want to come rescue her who is actively doing so.

"Well, isn't this nice. Wheels and a slut have come by to help protect the bitch queen."

"They haven't done anything wrong, Puck," Quinn finds herself saying despite herself, because yeah, she's pissed off, but angry Puck is a particular type of hell that they do not deserve to be subjected to when she's the one that set him off.

"Yeah, but you have. So they should leave us alone so that I can-

"Oh no," Santana chuckles darkly, "we're not leaving. You are."

"Like I take orders from you."

"We could get Mr. Schue and tell him that you were screaming at Quinn in the middle of the hallway," Artie says, and Quinn can tell that he's trying his hardest to sound serious, but Artie is about as threatening as a teddy bear.

"Ah, you two getting Mr. Schuester involved with something. What a surprise," she mutters, and Artie looks slightly dejected for a second, and Santana rolls her eyes, but neither of them are seriously deterred.

"There are razor blades in my hair, Puck. You know this."

"What are you going to do? Attack me in the middle of the hallway?"

"If you don't leave Q alone," Santana says calmly, as if attacking him with razors if he doesn't walk away from her friend is the most normal thing in the world.

"You guys, you're all being… oh."

"Quinn, are you okay?"

"Q?"

She doesn't answer, just tries to blink away the dots that had suddenly appeared in her vision. She feels herself swaying a little bit on her feet, and Santana notices immediately, gently pushing Quinn so that she's sitting down in Artie's lap.

"Talk to me, Quinn."

"Is she okay?" Puck asks quietly, and from what Quinn can make out from Santana's face, she's surprised that he isn't slapped right then and there.

"Get lost, Puckerman."

"But-

"We got her," Artie assures him, "but you need to leave her alone."

"What the fuck happened, Q?" Santana asks, kneeling down and resting her hands on Quinn's knees.

"I just… felt like I might pass out for a second. But now that I've sat down I feel fine," she says as she tries to stand up, feeling more and more acutely embarrassed for sitting in Artie's lap in the crowded hallway with each passing second.

"No, no, no," Santana says, pushing Quinn back down, "no moving."

"But-

"Quinn, I can't feel my legs, it's fine," Artie jokes, obviously just trying to make her feel a little bit better, but the only thing that is going to make her feel better is getting away from all the passerby's who just heard Puck scream that she was a heartless bitch that didn't care about her child.

"When's the last time you ate something?"

"That's none of your business."

"Oh yes, it is, Quinn. Do you even know me at all? _Everything_ is my business. I'm just that kind of bitch."

"Well you didn't have to make it Mr. Schuester's business, too."

"Nice deflection, but I told you that if you weren't going to talk that I was going to tell him."

"You still didn't have to."

"Yes," she says emphatically, "I did. And you almost passing out in the middle of the hallway stint just now pretty much proves it."

"I'm fine," she says bitterly, "It was just Puck."

"Puck has done a lot of things to you, Q," Santana sighs, "but he's never made you literally weak in your knees before."

"Do you want me to wheel you to the nurse?"

"No," she shakes her head, "I'm okay."

"Sure, you're just fine and dandy," Santana hisses.

"Santana-

"What I think Santana was _trying_ to say," Artie says diplomatically, "is that she's really worried about you and that you telling her that you're fine when you're quite obviously not isn't helping."

"Well, that's flattering of her, but-

"No, don't you two start fighting," Artie interrupts Quinn again, "I just helped break up one fight, and I don't want to do it again today."

"Look, Q, what if we just ditch class and go get lunch? There's that diner with those blueberry pancakes you go fucking crazy over within walking distance of the school for me, and rolling distance for you and Artie."

"Santana, I'm not-

"Your choices are lunch with us or the nurse's office."

"Fine. But Artie's not wheeling me the whole way there."

"We'll see about that, Q, we'll see."


End file.
